Content warning: this chapter contains violence.

 

Chapter 10

 

Duft, who is skinny and light-skinned, with long brown hair, breaks the silence. “Demons?”

It looks at its hands. “It’s a silly thing.”

 “Look at this bunch,” Duft says. “We’re nothing if not silly.”

“They really are,” says Kelti. She’s a pretty girl, at least by Silinie’s standards. Even her near-sighted squint doesn’t reduce the beauty of her deep brown skin, snub nose and shining brown eyes. “And harmless, as long as you‘re with us girls. So tell us.”

“Why are you here alone?” asks Desinia, who is a light brown, plump young woman with curves that Letvino keeps eying.

“My cousin Relleena said the students of Learning House Martyr Pelinol are the ones who know these things. She said she’d meet me here but she didn’t come, so I thought, well, since I’m here . . .” It raises its head and puts on an apologetic smile.

“That must have been upsetting,” Letvino says, patting its arm.  He’s wiry, with skin a shade lighter than Desinia’s and calculating hazel eyes that travel over its thin frame.

“Irritating, more likely,” says Desinia, giving Letvino a glare that says hands to yourself. He gives her an annoyed smile but withdraws his hand. She nods her approval. “Now, what do you want to know about demons?”

It smiles to show its appreciation like Silinie taught it. “My family has a story. Of a demon that almost destroyed our House.”

“Demons are imaginary,” Duft declares. “Allegories. They aren’t real.”

“They are too,” Kelti says. “That’s why interacting with them is forbidden.”

“And who do you know that’s ever interacted with them outside of stories?” Duft says, smugly.

Kelti rolls her eyes and turns back to it. “Never mind him, He’s so dogmatic it’s amazing he allows himself to leave the House.”

“The God wishes us to enjoy their gifts,” he says, piously, and takes another drink of his beer.

Micka leans forward, voice eager and eyes lit up with curiosity. “What’s your family’s story?”

It gives him what it hopes is a shy smile. “Well, our Girarch,”—oldest male house member—“told us that a hundred-fifty years ago a demon attacked our house, attempted to kill its members and drive the House from existence.”

Letvino shakes his head. “Didn’t happen, then. Demons don’t attack anyone. They don’t come to our world.”

“They do,” Micka protests. “But they have to be summoned by someone.”

“Which never works out right,” says Partonin. “Demons are tricky and will try to weasel out of any bargain they make.”

“And they require regular sacrifices,” says Desinia. “Usually blood or wealth or something similar.”

“Does your family name the demon?” Micka asks.

“My Giragh refuses to say,” it says. “He says naming a demon summons it, and bring misfortune on us and end our House.”

“He’s wrong,” Micka says. “You need a ritual to summon a demon, but having the name allows you to summon it. Then you can try to make a contract with it.”

“But if you do the summoning wrong, or phrase the contract wrong, it kills you and everyone else it can,” Kelti says, “That’s why it’s forbidden.”

“Still an allegory,” mutters Duft into his beer, but the rest of them ignore him.

“He told us what it looked like, though,” it says. “Can you name it from that?”

“I can,” Letvino says. “I know them all. Unlike you.”

“I knew most of them,” protests Kelti.

“Not enough to pass the exam.”

“Shut up.”

“How many times do you have to write out the list?”

“Ignore them,” Desinia says. “What did it look like?”

“Eight feet tall,” it says, and tries not to shudder as it remembers. “Red and brown skin oozing with liquid that smells like acid and smoke. Twelve tentacles lined with talons, a spiked tail. It has a round bump with seven horns where its head should be. It kills its victims by squeezing them and driving its tail through their bodies and out their mouths.”

They go silent, frown, and sit back in their seats. It wonders if it has told them too much, then realizes they are thinking.

“Got it!” say Micka, Kelti and Letvino simultaneously. The others swear, and all six burst out laughing.

“Right,” says Kelti, “who wants to try to pronounce it?”

Letvino sits up straight, takes a deep breath and in a deep voice, intones, “N*klabl’ch^gik’dm!”

It works its way through the sounds the man made. After the first “N” he’d made a clicking with his tongue, and after the “ch” a loud swallowing noise in the back of his throat. Its head tilts. “What?”

“N*klabl’ch^gik’dm,” Kelti repeats. Micka tries it, messes up both the click and the swallow, and the others laugh. He gets it right next time to sardonic applause from his friends and sincere applause from it.

“It’s a high-ranked demon, according to the Text of Otherwordly Interventions,” Micka says. “Summoning it requires ritual and binding mandala, and a contract requires a sacrifice of great value. It is ever vigilant for an opportunity to break its promises and take bloody, inexorable revenge.”

“So someone in our House made a contract with this demon?” It doesn’t have to pretend to be horrified.

“Or someone used it to destroy your House,” Letvino says. “Far easier to declare a Cleansing.”

“Only if you have power,” Desinia says. “If you’re weak, then you might use a demon to even the odds.”

It wonders who hates their houses enough to use a demon to destroy them, and how it will convince the other houses that it’s true.

“It’s just a story,” Duft declares. “Demons don’t exist.”

“This one does, according to our Girarch,” it says. It smiles at Micka. “I wonder who hated us that much. Or who in my House was stupid enough to make a deal with a demon. How could they do that? Summon it, I mean.”

“You need a Book of Rituals,” Letvino says. “They tell how to summon each demon, and what mandala will allow you to do it in safety.”

“I wonder if the book is still at our House,” it says, trying to make it sound as if it’s thinking aloud.

“Unlikely,” Micka says. “They’re forbidden. So if your House has one, it’s hidden. More likely, though it that they destroyed the book and the contract when they banished the demon.” He pauses, then adds, “It was banished, right?”

“Well, my House is still here,” it lies. “So I guess so. What do you mean, contracts?”

“Every agreement has a contract,” Letvino explains. “The contract spells out the obligations each party has and the rewards they receive. And if your family still has that, send it to me, because I can pass my church law class by showing it to the teacher.”

“Give it to me,” Kelti says. “I need the help more.”

“There’s no hope for you,” Letvino says.

“I don’t know if we have such a thing,” it says. “How do you think they stopped it?”

“They made the houses controlling it break their contract,” Kelti says. “Or banished it to its realm, or killed it. But those last two are impossible.”

“Almost impossible,” corrects Micka. “There are stories of those who have done so.”

“Enough scaring our guest,” Letvino declares. “This talk of demons is useless. Tell me, Metilia, what does your House do?”

“Buys a round for people who help it,” it says, using one of Silinie’s tricks to avoid questions she didn’t want to answer. It stands. “Beer for everyone?”

They cheer as it goes. When it comes back, finds the conversation has moved on from demons. It tries to steer them back, but the others are speaking of far more mundane things. They include it as best they can, but it finds talking with them challenging. Lies are hard to keep straight. It tells as much truth as it can manage, and the stories Silinie used to keep her friends laughing. They work well enough, especially the further they get into their cups.

Duft, it notices, pays most attention to Desinia. Partonin is talking mostly with to Kelti. The other two men focus on it, but in very different ways. Micka asks after its family and itself, and explains any time the conversation becomes too esoteric. Letvino makes certain it understands that he is far more impressive than Micka. His pupils, already dilated with clohalc, grow wider when he takes another pipe, and his eyes wander over the women in the room.

Letvino is the kind of man Silinie would snub. She’d make Micka her friend, and after two days of her flirting, he’d do anything to help her.

It knows it isn’t as good at flirting as Silinie, nor does it have her physical charms. But it remembers that the easiest way to flatter a man is to pay attention to him, look him in the eyes, and smile. So it does those things to Micka, to Letvino’s annoyance.

Silinie was far better at snubbing when she needed to do so, too, but its efforts do a some good because Letvino grows more irritated as the evening continues.

“You said it’s possible to kill a demon,” it says to Micka, after another one of Letvino’s brags, “How is it done?”

“Well, that depends on the demon,” Micka said. “For lesser demons, a priest can banish it. For greater ones like N*klabl’ch^gik’dm, it must first be made corporeal, then destroyed with flowers.”

“Flowers?”

Before he can answer, the evening bell rings. Desinia rises. “First night of freedom or not, we have classes in the morning. Time for me to go.”

“I’ll go with you,’ Duft says, bringing a snigger from Letvino, which Duft ignores.

It watches them go, sees Duft take Desinia’s hand as they step outside and smiles. It had guessed right.

“Funny how he thinks he has a chance with her,” Letvino says, which tells it that the man is unobservant as well as pompous. His voice drops and he leans over the table, setting his face beside its own. “As much chance as Micka has with you, I wager.”

He’s too close, and his expression is the same as on Talint’s companion when he asked about its holes. He keeps his voice low enough that only it can hear him when he adds, “You’re on clohalc, I can tell by your eyes. And that means you’re after pleasure. So why are you talking about demons instead of what you want?”

It contemplates cutting his nose off and realizes it must be drunk. Doing that would scare the others and it still needs their help. It turns its back on the man and asks Micka. “What type of flowers kill a demon?”

“Red.” Micka is flushed with drink, but sounds clear of mind and barely stumbles over his words. “But it’s not just flowers. You need to make weapons with the flowers, and have them blessed by the priest. Only then can you use them to attack the demon.”

“How do you make a weapon out of flowers?”

“The library has books that describe them.” Micka reaches out to take its hand, stops before he does, and put his hand on the table instead. His eyes are wide and drunk and hopeful as he says, “They only allow students in the library. But I could copy the drawings for you, if you want.”

“Oh God, he’s trying to flirt,” says Letvino, which earns him a glare from Kelti. “Give it up, Micka. That’s not what she’s after.”

It ignores Letvino, puts its hand over Micka’s and squeezes, like Silinie used to do. “I would enjoy that very much.”

“Well, it’s not happening tonight,” Letvino sneers. “Library closed hours ago.”

“And speaking of the library, and therefore classes, we should go as well,” Kelti says, her eyes on Letvino. “Come with us, Metilia. We can walk you home.”

“She’s not finished her drink,” Letvino protests.

“I’m going to take a boat across the river,” it says. “My house has a dock.”

“I’ll walk her to the boats,” Micka says.

“We’ll walk her,” Letvino corrects him, and looks at it when he says, “After all, gentlemen don’t leave a lady in need.”

Kelti frowns at his tone. “You’re not a gentleman. And I’d better not hear that you proved it tonight.”

“Yes, mother,” Letvino sneers.

“I mean it,” Kelti says. There’s worry in her voice as she says, “Metilia, you should come with us.”

“I’ll take her,” Micka declares, coming to his feet. “As soon as you are ready, Metilia.”

“In that case, let’s go now,” it says, rising. “Thank you so much for a fun evening. And if Micka wants to walk me to the dock, I will happily let him do so.”

He looks away, and a hint of red darkens his light brown skin. But when he looks back, he’s smiling. “I would be honoured.”

Letvino catches its wrist. “You can’t leave without finishing your drink.”

This time it’s the one who closes the distance, turning its body so the other can’t see. It twists its arm in Letvino’s grip and applies a joint lock to his wrist that jerks his body forward so his chest comes in painful contact with the table.

“I did not give you permission to touch me,” it says, its voice low and cold. It lets him go and smiles again at Micka. “Shall we go?”

Micka leads it through the crowd of drunken students and out into the night. The air has cooled, and is fresh enough to clear a bit of the haze from its head. The clohalc is leaving its body, and it feels weary and sore and drunk. It wants to go home and hopes the curse will let it sleep on its rug for a few hours,

Micka offers it an arm, and asks, “If you wish?”

The smile on his face reminds it of the way Relleen looked at Silinie, and for a moment it feels tears trying to come. It blinks them away before they show and smiles. “Only if you promise to show me those pictures tomorrow.”

Before Micka can answer, Letvino stumbles into the street, grabs its arm, and yanks it around.

“What the hell was that?” he demands, squeezing hard on its bicep.

Fuck. It should have sensed him coming, or at least expected him to do so, but it’s drunk and exhausted. Now it has to do something to the man, and it can’t cut his hand off without upsetting Micka. It puts its own fingers over Letvino’s, ready to break them. “My sister always says it’s better to give a man his dignity instead of embarrassing him in front of his friends.”

“You think that wasn’t embarrassing?”

“No one saw it but you and I,” it says. It looks behind him, where Kelti and Partonin have charged out of the drinking house. “But if you don’t let go now, I’ll do something everyone will see.”

“Something worse?” Letvino sneers. “You’re stoned on clohalc. What are you going to do, take me to the alley and fuck me into submission?”

It’s going to break his fingers when Micka shouts, “Enough, Letvino! Leave her alone.”

Click Here to Read Chapter 11!

 

Thank you for reading!

If you are enjoying this story and would like to support the author, there are four things you can do:

1. Buy me a coffee! 

Whether a monthly membership or a single donation, your support will help me write  longer, faster and better. Also, monthly supporters get discounts, free books and more. Buy me a coffee today!

2. Buy my books!

I have two great series, The Thomas Flarety Stories and The Stalker Chronicles. Pop over to my books page to check them out.

3. Join my mailing list!

Subscribers get first access to new chapters, as well as a free copy of The Trials of Abyowith, first book in The Stalker Chronicles. They are also the first to hear about new books and events, and have a chance to get free books. Click here to join.

4. Tell your friends!

Share on the social media of your choice or email the link to this page to your friends. The more people who read, the better!